Happy US Independence Day!
Yesterday, my wife and I were in New Jersey (yes, New Jersey), where we met with a good friend. With that friend, we took a trip to Washington's and the Revolutionary Army's winter quarters in Morristown, New Jersey (yes, again, New Jersey). While there, our friend (who is from New Jersey) was reminded, and my wife and I were informed, that the winter of 1779-1780, during which time Continental troops were bivouacked in Morristown and nearby Jockey Hollow, was far and away the worst winter, in terms of weather, seen by the Revolutionary War combatants (and since). Yet it is little heralded in mainstream media, overshadowed by the gentler winter of Valley Forge.
The reason that the US Park Rangers give for the lesser general popular knowledge of the Morristown winter encampment is that Valley Forge was far more destructive...not because of the weather, but because of the folly of the commanders, who had their men set up in the low-lying areas with their poor drainage and poorer hygiene. Morristown quartering was set up on the upper slopes of the area hills, so that runoff would flow away from camp.
What does it say about the United States and its people that a failure, neither of fighting spirits nor of tactics but of logistics and the understanding that successful farmers (the very same people trumpeted by the Founding Fathers--you know, those folks whose ideas we are told we ought to take as Gospel*) have to have about how water--and what it carries--acts, is enshrined in the collective national memory as a high point of its natal narrative?
I well understand the annoyance that the Morristown folks feel. There is something of it in the assertions of excellence made by a number of Texans (including myself, in all honesty). And I do not know anyone who does not, at least on occasion, indulge in the "Oh, yeah? Well, I've got X" behavior that often gets called dick-wagging or a pissing contest.** But my question still stands; why do we so enshrine failure, rather than the successful display of having learned the lesson from the failure?
*Of course, the Founders, the Framers of the Constitution, openly acknowledge that their efforts and the document which encapsulates them are imperfect...
**Okay, "often" in my experience, which is admittedly not the most representative that can be found.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
20120702.1301
For some time now, I have kept a journal. While I have not always been as diligent in making entries into it as I ought (really, it ought to be daily, and I have fallen far short of that over the term in which I have kept my journals), in the past year and a half, I have devoted at least a certain amount of writing to each day. (For the most part; I have not, as I said, always been as diligent as I ought.) The practice in writing has not done much for my penmanship, as those who have been abused by it can amply attest, but I have benefited from the practice in putting my ideas on the page. And it has helped me to work out a number of ideas for such projects as conference papers, conference panels, and sections of my finally completed dissertation.
Recently, however, I have not been able to take advantage of that particular phenomenon. I still make an effort to write a minimal amount each day (and am getting a better success rate in it), but I am having trouble getting my more scholarly ideas hammered out. It is quite frustrating, really. I am accustomed to being able to sit down with pen or keyboard and hammer notions into shape, finding support for them as needed (and often more than is really necessary). Now, I have theses for a couple of papers and ideas for a few more, but I cannot seem, somehow, to get the papers going.
The situation vexes me, and I do not know what has caused it. A couple of the folks I know have suggested that I am in some ways a bit burnt out from school, and I can understand that it might well be so; I went straight from high school to undergraduate work to graduate work to doctoral work, hardly taking time off between stages (even going from undergraduate to graduate work, I studied hard over the summer). Twelve years of running full-tilt towards an academic honor I was finally able to reach could certainly be having other effects on me at the moment. But I somehow do not think that it is the whole problem.
That does not mean that I have any idea what is going on. But I really ought to be used to that by now...
Recently, however, I have not been able to take advantage of that particular phenomenon. I still make an effort to write a minimal amount each day (and am getting a better success rate in it), but I am having trouble getting my more scholarly ideas hammered out. It is quite frustrating, really. I am accustomed to being able to sit down with pen or keyboard and hammer notions into shape, finding support for them as needed (and often more than is really necessary). Now, I have theses for a couple of papers and ideas for a few more, but I cannot seem, somehow, to get the papers going.
The situation vexes me, and I do not know what has caused it. A couple of the folks I know have suggested that I am in some ways a bit burnt out from school, and I can understand that it might well be so; I went straight from high school to undergraduate work to graduate work to doctoral work, hardly taking time off between stages (even going from undergraduate to graduate work, I studied hard over the summer). Twelve years of running full-tilt towards an academic honor I was finally able to reach could certainly be having other effects on me at the moment. But I somehow do not think that it is the whole problem.
That does not mean that I have any idea what is going on. But I really ought to be used to that by now...
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
20120626.1019
My wife and I have had a subscription to Texas Monthly for some time, and we read it with great pleasure; it is very good to get a little taste of home every now and again. In the July 2012 issue, though, there is something with which I find myself annoyed. Specifically, it is a comment in Nate Blakeslee's article "Drawing Straws." In discussing the haphazard and minimally effective proposals for water use in the state, Blakeslee remarks that "The state water plan is to planning as chicken-fried steak is to steak."
I gather that the remark is meant to disparage the state plan, but the analogy is a faulty one. While it is admittedly true that a steak is supposed to be a good cut of meat, cooked well (as in adverbially good rather than internal temperature and color of meat) and served to the pleasure of the diner, so that it is a good thing, chicken-fried steak is in no meaningful way inferior. Sure, it may come from less favored cuts, but when it is tenderized, breaded, fried up, and served with cream gravy, it is a gustatory delight of exceptional quality--and, indeed, quintessentially Texan (particularly the Hill Country). So to use it as a parallel for a bad idea is, well, a bad idea.
And for those of you who have not had the pleasure of eating a chicken-fried steak, you have a problem that needs fixin'.
I gather that the remark is meant to disparage the state plan, but the analogy is a faulty one. While it is admittedly true that a steak is supposed to be a good cut of meat, cooked well (as in adverbially good rather than internal temperature and color of meat) and served to the pleasure of the diner, so that it is a good thing, chicken-fried steak is in no meaningful way inferior. Sure, it may come from less favored cuts, but when it is tenderized, breaded, fried up, and served with cream gravy, it is a gustatory delight of exceptional quality--and, indeed, quintessentially Texan (particularly the Hill Country). So to use it as a parallel for a bad idea is, well, a bad idea.
And for those of you who have not had the pleasure of eating a chicken-fried steak, you have a problem that needs fixin'.
Monday, June 25, 2012
20120625.1231
As I was writing in my journal recently, I made a comment about my family that prompted a fair bit of reflection. In the comment, I framed relations with my family in postcolonial terms, and it surprised me a bit that I did so. I decided to give some thought to why it happened.
Part of it is that I have put a fair bit of time and effort into work in postcolonial discourse. It was the first major school of critical thought to which I was introduced in anything approaching a serious fashion; my undergraduate thesis rolled around (ineptly, as I now realize) in it. My master's thesis and some conference papers I have presented worked in it, if not exclusively so, as well, so I can say that postcolonial discourse has occupied a large chunk of my academic life. That it has, that I have become accustomed to applying that particular filter to my perception, makes sense.
Unfortunately, as I thought about the matter a bit more, it occurred to me that the comment implies that I exist as an entity colonized by my family, which has unpleasant overtones. I do not think they are entirely accurate. My family does not exploit my position. (Economically, this is certainly true. There is some deployment of the social cachet of my having a doctorate and teaching college in New York City, but I am not giving anything up to allow my family to do so. I am not convinced, therefore, that there is any "exploitation" going on.) Nor am I certain that I am "removed" from the centers of power in the family; I maintain close ties with the people I love, and the structure of my family is not entirely so centered as to have a specific "core" in relation to which I can exist as a "periphery." (And, to be as arrogantly egotistical as I am accustomed to being, I am one of the centers of power in the family. So there.)
Although I do not, upon reflection, see myself as colonized, I do in some ways act as a colonizer. I have, in fact, gone out from the gathering of my people into distant lands to take for myself and my own benefit the resources I have found in those places. From the Texas Hill Country, I went to southwestern Louisiana, from which I derived an education and (damned little) funding. I also ended up taking a wife from the people I found there, which, if not necessarily "going native," and certainly not against the wishes of the other person involved, does in some ways mimic aspects of the colonization of the Americas by European "explorers" (the more so since my wife grew up a lot closer to southwest Louisiana in many ways than she did to the Hill Country). I also came to The City, where I used the available resources to complete a degree and to financially enrich myself. In that, I am very much reenacting on the micro scale what has been and continues to be so destructive on the macro--as are a great many people who go away to school and to work.
Does it then make of us evil folk that we do so? Are we being as destructive in our small ways as more overt, obvious colonists have been and are? Or is the reduction in scale enough to make what I and others do in our personal lives not an ill?
I obviously have some more thinking to do.
Part of it is that I have put a fair bit of time and effort into work in postcolonial discourse. It was the first major school of critical thought to which I was introduced in anything approaching a serious fashion; my undergraduate thesis rolled around (ineptly, as I now realize) in it. My master's thesis and some conference papers I have presented worked in it, if not exclusively so, as well, so I can say that postcolonial discourse has occupied a large chunk of my academic life. That it has, that I have become accustomed to applying that particular filter to my perception, makes sense.
Unfortunately, as I thought about the matter a bit more, it occurred to me that the comment implies that I exist as an entity colonized by my family, which has unpleasant overtones. I do not think they are entirely accurate. My family does not exploit my position. (Economically, this is certainly true. There is some deployment of the social cachet of my having a doctorate and teaching college in New York City, but I am not giving anything up to allow my family to do so. I am not convinced, therefore, that there is any "exploitation" going on.) Nor am I certain that I am "removed" from the centers of power in the family; I maintain close ties with the people I love, and the structure of my family is not entirely so centered as to have a specific "core" in relation to which I can exist as a "periphery." (And, to be as arrogantly egotistical as I am accustomed to being, I am one of the centers of power in the family. So there.)
Although I do not, upon reflection, see myself as colonized, I do in some ways act as a colonizer. I have, in fact, gone out from the gathering of my people into distant lands to take for myself and my own benefit the resources I have found in those places. From the Texas Hill Country, I went to southwestern Louisiana, from which I derived an education and (damned little) funding. I also ended up taking a wife from the people I found there, which, if not necessarily "going native," and certainly not against the wishes of the other person involved, does in some ways mimic aspects of the colonization of the Americas by European "explorers" (the more so since my wife grew up a lot closer to southwest Louisiana in many ways than she did to the Hill Country). I also came to The City, where I used the available resources to complete a degree and to financially enrich myself. In that, I am very much reenacting on the micro scale what has been and continues to be so destructive on the macro--as are a great many people who go away to school and to work.
Does it then make of us evil folk that we do so? Are we being as destructive in our small ways as more overt, obvious colonists have been and are? Or is the reduction in scale enough to make what I and others do in our personal lives not an ill?
I obviously have some more thinking to do.
Friday, June 22, 2012
20120622.1004
Everybody complains about the weather...
Summer has definitely arrived in The City. The past few days have seen high temperatures in the upper 90s--that would be the mid- to upper 30s for those of you working in Celsius--and that range counts as "hot" even in the Texas Hill Country and southwest Louisiana. Like the latter, the humidity has been up, as well, so it has hardly been the most pleasant of times to be outside.
The problem is compounded by the lack of good air conditioning in The City. Many of the buildings are older--indeed, "prewar" construction is eagerly sought-after--and I well understand that it is prohibitively expensive to retrofit such buildings with such amenities as central air. But new construction all too often lacks it, as well, and I continue to be boggled by it.
Even so, this is one of many times I am glad to have lived as long in the South and into the Southwest as I have. Growing up there exposed me to the kind of heat that is happening now and that flusters New Yorkers as a matter of course, and for months at a time; I am, as much as a person can be, used to it. (Indeed, while I was at graduate school in southwest Louisiana, I would often be outside on campus in collared shirt and dark pants, and I was not inhibited by it.)
I get along fairly decently here. But I do so largely because of my experiences elsewhere. Despite what many native New Yorkers believe, there is much that is worthwhile outside of The City.
Summer has definitely arrived in The City. The past few days have seen high temperatures in the upper 90s--that would be the mid- to upper 30s for those of you working in Celsius--and that range counts as "hot" even in the Texas Hill Country and southwest Louisiana. Like the latter, the humidity has been up, as well, so it has hardly been the most pleasant of times to be outside.
The problem is compounded by the lack of good air conditioning in The City. Many of the buildings are older--indeed, "prewar" construction is eagerly sought-after--and I well understand that it is prohibitively expensive to retrofit such buildings with such amenities as central air. But new construction all too often lacks it, as well, and I continue to be boggled by it.
Even so, this is one of many times I am glad to have lived as long in the South and into the Southwest as I have. Growing up there exposed me to the kind of heat that is happening now and that flusters New Yorkers as a matter of course, and for months at a time; I am, as much as a person can be, used to it. (Indeed, while I was at graduate school in southwest Louisiana, I would often be outside on campus in collared shirt and dark pants, and I was not inhibited by it.)
I get along fairly decently here. But I do so largely because of my experiences elsewhere. Despite what many native New Yorkers believe, there is much that is worthwhile outside of The City.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
20120620.1133
I know that it has been a long time since I last posted. Holidays for both parents have passed, along with a few other events. While I am not certain whether or not anyone has missed reading what I have to write, I am certain that I have missed writing it. So here it is.
A few days after I made my last post, I headed from The City to Lafayette, Louisiana, where I formally received the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English. My beloved wife went down with me, and we were joined by my father-in-law and his wife, one of my uncles, one of my great uncles, one of my grandmothers, my brother, and my parents. It was good to get to see everybody, and I was very happy that they could be with me to celebrate.
From Lafayette, we dispersed, with my wife returning to The City, my in-laws heading back to Arkansas, and my uncle and great uncle heading back to the Texas Hill Country ahead of my parents, my grandmother, my brother, and me. I spent a couple of weeks in the Hill Country, relaxing and reminding myself of the circumstances in which I grew up. It was helpful to reconnect with my upbringing, as it helped me understand better the person I am--a bit cliche, I know, but as true as I know how to tell it.
From the Hill Country, my parents and I went to visit my other grandmother in central Iowa, leaving just before Memorial Day. There, I continued to relax, and I was introduced to parts of my heritage with which I had only been passingly familiar. Family farms are still viable in that part of the world, and much that is held to have been only theorized by a great many people in my acquaintance are striven for and in some cases realized.
It is not wholly a bad thing.
I very much enjoyed my time away. I rested much, did a few things, and ate both well and abundantly. I was also very glad to get back home, to sleep in my own bed.
And now, even though I am on leave from work, I have things to do.
A few days after I made my last post, I headed from The City to Lafayette, Louisiana, where I formally received the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English. My beloved wife went down with me, and we were joined by my father-in-law and his wife, one of my uncles, one of my great uncles, one of my grandmothers, my brother, and my parents. It was good to get to see everybody, and I was very happy that they could be with me to celebrate.
From Lafayette, we dispersed, with my wife returning to The City, my in-laws heading back to Arkansas, and my uncle and great uncle heading back to the Texas Hill Country ahead of my parents, my grandmother, my brother, and me. I spent a couple of weeks in the Hill Country, relaxing and reminding myself of the circumstances in which I grew up. It was helpful to reconnect with my upbringing, as it helped me understand better the person I am--a bit cliche, I know, but as true as I know how to tell it.
From the Hill Country, my parents and I went to visit my other grandmother in central Iowa, leaving just before Memorial Day. There, I continued to relax, and I was introduced to parts of my heritage with which I had only been passingly familiar. Family farms are still viable in that part of the world, and much that is held to have been only theorized by a great many people in my acquaintance are striven for and in some cases realized.
It is not wholly a bad thing.
I very much enjoyed my time away. I rested much, did a few things, and ate both well and abundantly. I was also very glad to get back home, to sleep in my own bed.
And now, even though I am on leave from work, I have things to do.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
20120510.1332
Tomorrow, I leave The City for what will be nearly a month in the middle of the United States, the so-called "fly-over country" that all too many folks on the East and West Coasts disregard as consisting wholly of idiots and racist rednecks and without which they would likely starve to death. Planned events include my being hooded for my PhD and spending several weeks with family in central Texas and central Iowa, as well as trips to local aikido dojo so that I can do something to keep my meager skills in that art from deteriorating while I am away.
The thought of spending the amount of time with my family that I will get is a pleasant one. The knowledge that I do so at the cost of being away from my home, my life, and my lovely, loving wife is far less so. I will miss the apartment and the wonderful woman with whom I live in it terribly, so I have another thing to look forward to this trip.
Coming home.
The thought of spending the amount of time with my family that I will get is a pleasant one. The knowledge that I do so at the cost of being away from my home, my life, and my lovely, loving wife is far less so. I will miss the apartment and the wonderful woman with whom I live in it terribly, so I have another thing to look forward to this trip.
Coming home.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
20120509.1210
Just to follow up on a couple of earlier posts:
I mentioned here that I am the beneficiary of federal student loan programs, and so I have some concern for my interest rate...which looks like it may be going up soon. The comments attendant on the later article, the one I cite second, worry me even more than does the event which occasioned them; the rancor and "I did it with no help; why can't you?"* attitude that pop up in them makes me shake my head. Matters have changed, and not always for the better, and the lack of compassion for and understanding of others voiced...I cannot say I am pleased to see it.
Also, here I discussed comments about standardized state exams and the amount of money being paid to produce them. One would think that something that costs several million dollars to produce would be put through a simple fact-check and quality control review. That is one of the things that is pushed forward as the virtue of the free market, after all, that it efficiently self-regulates and makes good products. So when I saw this piece on the news this morning, I was surprised...very little. I am aware that the myth of business efficiency and the basic ethical stance of corporations is just that: a myth. It came as no shock to me that a business, one not interested in teaching so much as in making money, would fail to do what it needs to do to make valid, reliable tests--insofar as any one test can actually be an adequate assessment measure or means to drive instruction. And it did not escape my notice that test results support administrative bonuses rather than going to the people who are held immediately accountable for the creation of those results.
And we wonder where our school tax dollars go.
*Of course, "no help" is not so much not helped. But when one commentator sought to point that out, referencing the immensely increased tuition and fee rates, decreased governmental subsidies for public institutions, as well as the public infrastructure used to get to and support the school, he was roundly condemned as making, and I paraphrase, "sissy, liberal complaints."
I mentioned here that I am the beneficiary of federal student loan programs, and so I have some concern for my interest rate...which looks like it may be going up soon. The comments attendant on the later article, the one I cite second, worry me even more than does the event which occasioned them; the rancor and "I did it with no help; why can't you?"* attitude that pop up in them makes me shake my head. Matters have changed, and not always for the better, and the lack of compassion for and understanding of others voiced...I cannot say I am pleased to see it.
Also, here I discussed comments about standardized state exams and the amount of money being paid to produce them. One would think that something that costs several million dollars to produce would be put through a simple fact-check and quality control review. That is one of the things that is pushed forward as the virtue of the free market, after all, that it efficiently self-regulates and makes good products. So when I saw this piece on the news this morning, I was surprised...very little. I am aware that the myth of business efficiency and the basic ethical stance of corporations is just that: a myth. It came as no shock to me that a business, one not interested in teaching so much as in making money, would fail to do what it needs to do to make valid, reliable tests--insofar as any one test can actually be an adequate assessment measure or means to drive instruction. And it did not escape my notice that test results support administrative bonuses rather than going to the people who are held immediately accountable for the creation of those results.
And we wonder where our school tax dollars go.
*Of course, "no help" is not so much not helped. But when one commentator sought to point that out, referencing the immensely increased tuition and fee rates, decreased governmental subsidies for public institutions, as well as the public infrastructure used to get to and support the school, he was roundly condemned as making, and I paraphrase, "sissy, liberal complaints."
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
20120508.1049
There is a large fly buzzing about the apartment.
I think it slipped in when I stepped out.
The cats follow it attentively,
Running from one room to another,
Leaping at it
And missing.
I am sure there is a metaphor in there somewhere.
I think it slipped in when I stepped out.
The cats follow it attentively,
Running from one room to another,
Leaping at it
And missing.
I am sure there is a metaphor in there somewhere.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
20120506.1621
In just a few days, I will be taking part in the commencement exercises at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where I will be hooded in recognition of having completed the work to earn a PhD in English. The event is an auspicious one, and its imminence reminds me that I am very much attuned to the meanings of rituals. Something in the ceremonial, among the pomp and flourish of a well-executed traditional performance, speaks to me--and it has long been so for me. I have invested much in coming to understand how insignia and their placement, what regalia are displayed and in what manner, what phrases are used and in what order, and what arrangement of seats and of things before those seats mean.
And they do have meaning. Or they can.
I am well aware that a great many people put no stock in ceremony. They do not attend to the actions they perform, and in many cases resist the performance as artificial and stuffy. Their complaints are not wholly without merit; even in the case of my upcoming graduation, it is far more important that my transcripts show completion than that I wear a fancy, elaborate robe and get a highly decorated piece of paper with my name on it. But there are things in ritual that are worth attending to. It connects us to our pasts, to those who have gone before and upon whose achievements many of us have relied; certainly, I could not have done my dissertation project without a work to write about and without the research of others from which to develop my own ideas. And attending to the small details of ceremonial activities can show--and for me does show--the belief in the importance of the thing being celebrated. By making sure that each piece is in place and time, those participating in rituals demonstrate their devotion to the thing being celebrated; it is the very removal from simple efficiency and practicality that makes the ritual important.
I do not think I am the first to say so (although I do not recall where I have come across it before, for which I apologize). But that does not mean that I do not feel it.
And they do have meaning. Or they can.
I am well aware that a great many people put no stock in ceremony. They do not attend to the actions they perform, and in many cases resist the performance as artificial and stuffy. Their complaints are not wholly without merit; even in the case of my upcoming graduation, it is far more important that my transcripts show completion than that I wear a fancy, elaborate robe and get a highly decorated piece of paper with my name on it. But there are things in ritual that are worth attending to. It connects us to our pasts, to those who have gone before and upon whose achievements many of us have relied; certainly, I could not have done my dissertation project without a work to write about and without the research of others from which to develop my own ideas. And attending to the small details of ceremonial activities can show--and for me does show--the belief in the importance of the thing being celebrated. By making sure that each piece is in place and time, those participating in rituals demonstrate their devotion to the thing being celebrated; it is the very removal from simple efficiency and practicality that makes the ritual important.
I do not think I am the first to say so (although I do not recall where I have come across it before, for which I apologize). But that does not mean that I do not feel it.
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